What It Means To Fly Free
by Vanilla Baby
Summary: Post OiS. Wash tries to describe what it feels like to fly, but finds sometimes the gift of flight is something even the most verbose person has a hard time putting into words.


**Title: **What It Means To Fly Free  
**Author: **VanillaBaby  
**Summary: **Wash takes a second to try and describe what flying is really like.  
**Rating:** G  
**Characters: **Wash (and slight River... but she is like a blip on the nav-system. Swear)  
**Spoilers/Timeline: **Post OiS, but pre-BDM (obviously).  
**Disclaimer: **Joss is boss. All of this wonderment is his (as is true with most wonderful things in this world)  
**Author's Note:** Slightly OOC Wash. He has some River-like tendencies. Not the crazy talk or the acrobatics (but how cool would ninja-fighter Wash be?), but a lot of "over-feeling"-ness. Again, I don't think it's too jarring, but I tend to write my Wash a little bit more intuitive than he probably is. This isn't my favorite story I've ever written. but the process of writing it taught me a lot, and I'm just curious to see what you guys think is good and what needs work. Either way, read, enjoy, and review. I love all of the concrit, it really helps my writing out a lot.

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He knows River knows, and he telepathically thanks her for never telling anyone (and he knows she hears him).

But Wash swears he doesn't really know how to fly. Rather, he feels the flight deep in the marrow of his bones. His hands race to the buttons before his brain knows what they're doing, and he's shouting down commands to Kaylee before he recognizes the sound of his own voice booming over the ship's comm. It's like a waking dream where his every sense is assaulted by an expanse of white hot stars and the almighty blackness of space.

He can't explain it really, so he seldom tries. Don't much seem to be an issue worth discussin' anyways.

He believes it's kinda like River when she went all crazy with the gun that time at Niska's. When Kaylee was describin' how River reacted: how the gun looked so natural in her hand, and the grace, and ease of her movements… well… Wash couldn't help but see the similarities. He runs a hand through his unruly hair and smirks. 'cept he knows he never spent time in an Alliance experimental school-type thingy. So, he suspects it's similar to River's predicament, and nothing like it all at once.

As he's said, it's confusing, so he don't happen to think about it that often.

Most of the other non-flyin "but I need to know this so I don't crash" stuff came afterwards. Wires. Cables. Electronics. Those all came secondary to him, but not any less easy. The mathematics and numbers all clicked into place as if they'd always been in his brain, but had never been unlocked before. Wash found he could take one turn at a helm, and pretty much have the entire boat figured. He could just… he somehow could…sigh. It's complicated.

Serenity don't speak to him, not like she does with Kaylee. No, he figures himself as kinda like a bonus super-component of the ship. The second he is in that chair, it's as if he is plugged in to the ship. Like a lamp…except less fluorescent light, and not stationary, and…able to fly? Not really like a lamp at all then.

Flight is Wash's little secret to himself (and he guesses River now too), and he prefers to keep it that way. Even some of the best pilots he's met in the verse don't really understand him or his ways. He ain't embarrassed about that though. Actually quite the contrary. He likes his little mystery talent.

But he finds the gift of flight to make the most sense at moments like the one right now, when he stuck at the helm on a long journey, and the crew is sleeping. When he's not physically flyin' at all. The best are times like right now. when he's raised himself from his chair, and finds his way to the very front of the bridge where the metal and the window-panes converge

It is then, when he tilts his head up to the windshield and is adopted by the emptiness around him. His fingers tingle. His eyelids lower shut, and he inhales through his nose: smelling the frosty glass and almost tasting the metal walls. He presses his hands on the glass and feels the frost crystallizing around his palms. The deafening boom of space separates particle by particle, allowing HIS ship to pass through the black.

His bones shake and burn and explode all at once, and then every memory he's ever had is compacted into one sonic crush of feeling.

It's like experiencing only one thing. Like feeling only ground on his feet, and losing taste and sound. It's knowing where he is in space because he can visualize the exact entry angles (down to the hundredth of a degree) to all the surrounding planets and how the thought of it makes his pulse thrum in his brain. It's knowing how much fuel is left in the cells because he can feel it's texture between his fingers. It's the symphony of buzzing wires, and whether or not their tempo is quick enough for the ship to bank a hard starboard turn. It's an all-encompassing oneness that makes him realize what it truly means to be free.

But that ain't really it at all, he thinks. It's as close as he could ever get to reasonin' it with the words he was given. It's a might bit too intense to try to suss out, so he just feels the flight and maneuvers the ship the way his body tells his brain to. That feeling hasn't led him astray before.

So with this hands interlaced behind his head, Wash exhales the breath he forgot he was holding…and relinquishes the intensity of flight. At least for now. Because he knows that flight ain't at all like what River's got. Soaring above and beyond the physical capabilities of man ain't somethin' the Alliance can shock into your brain. It's too many things for them to understand. Flight, in it's truest form, is a gift and a responsibility that can't be taught or traded. It just is.

Like he said, he can't really explain it…and it ain't like he's ever wanted to.


End file.
